


Breaking the Ice

by xawesometrio



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Titanic (1997)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based off of the Titanic movie, Character Death, I'm a sucker for happy endings, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Temporary Character Death, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, au where everyone is human, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:59:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xawesometrio/pseuds/xawesometrio
Summary: Derek Hale and his Uncle Peter win the gamble of a lifetime, landing them aboard the ship of wonders known as the Titanic where he meets a troubled aristocrat named Stiles Stilinski who would rather not be returning to America. The two fall fast and it soon becomes apparent just how wondrous this ship of dreams really is.Or the story in which Derek is Jack Dawson and Stiles is Rose Dewitt in the Sterek version of the Titanic.





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Titanic and I am going to keep this story as true to the plot of the movie as I can, while also following the historical context of the time. I would also like to apologize for any mistakes that you may find, they are all mine since I am currently without a beta writer. I hope do you enjoy!

Derek smirked over his deck of cards, his hazel green eyes scanning the darkened faces of the men around him. His Uncle’s smug gaze could be felt all around the table as if he knew the others had no chance against his darling nephew. Of course, they didn’t. Derek had a perfect hand and everyone had put all they had on the table. Every last hard earned dime that Derek had made in the past week doing various labor inducing jobs, and sketching a few choice people, had been thrown haphazardly into the large pile.

The world froze for one moment, the soft tap of cards falling down onto the chipped wooden table was easily detectable while the men searched hungrily through the hands that had been placed before them.

“You won, Derek!” Peter hissed, stashing their earnings into a worn leather satchel that his sister had insisted they buy.

An older man with a greying beard groaned, watching on dejectedly as his two boarding tickets were taken right out from under him. Derek could feel the heated gaze coming from the man’s wife, but he was too overjoyed to dwell on it for any longer than a second.

“Come on, Peter! We don’t want to be late for boarding!” They took off like bandits, racing through the streets, whooping and hollering like they had just won the lottery. In a sense, they truly had won something as priceless as a bunch a money, a free ticket to America. To New York, no less! His family had sailed their way to the land of the free a few years prior, leaving just Derek, his father, and his Uncle Peter behind. Unfortunately, his father had fallen ill. The coal dust he inhaled everyday finally caused his lungs to stop working and he passed in the dead of the night with no one home to see him off. He was in his own free land now, or at least that’s what Derek hoped.

Excited chatter surrounded them, blanketing them like the smog that hung in the air from the motor vehicles and the beauty herself. The ship was huge, built to be unsinkable, a force not even God himself could strike down. That’s, at least, what Derek had read on the yellowed out pages of the newspapers that littered the dingy bars he usually spent his time in. Normally, the odor of the city was enough to make him gag, but the salty ocean air seemed to cleanse his lungs and the breeze gently tousled his hair like the touch of a lover.

“Come on, hurry! We only have a few minutes left to board! You don’t want them to leave us behind, do you? It’s about time we made our way home!” He had never felt so elated to be stepping on board a ship. His first, and only, experience on board a ship had been rocky at best. He had been young and wildly curious, begging his older sister Laura to play with him and explain to him where they were going and why. He had heard it all various times before, but for some reason the answers never seemed right, or enough. Maybe it was because he had no joy in leaving America behind. Needless to say, the older Hale grew annoyed with him and threatened to throw him over the side of the ship. After that he kept his mouth shut and stayed below decks, a new fear taking root deep in his soul.

Ignoring the usual worry that plagued him when getting anywhere near the water, he rushed forward with his third class tickets held high and proud. They were already beginning to stop boarding, but they could just make it if the crew member they were fast approaching waited for them. For some unknown and lucky reason he did, frowning skeptically at Derek’s dirtied clothing and his Uncle’s cracking leather satchel. “Tickets?”

The dark haired male nodded profusely, a wide smile pulling up his stubbled cheeks to reveal whitened teeth in the bright afternoon sun. “Yes, third class tickets right here.”

“Did you go through the inspection cue?” He could feel the man’s disdain rolling off him in abundance, obviously he saw himself as more important than those of the lower classes. Although, he couldn’t see why, the man probably wasn’t any more important than Derek or Peter.

“Of course, anyway we don’t have any lice, we’re Americans. Both of us.” He gestured back to his Uncle who only waved slightly, clutching to their bag of belongings like his life depended on it. Considering it was all they had other than the tickets that Derek clutched in his hands, it kind of did. The gambling money would give them just enough to pay for food, if needed, or other more exciting expenses like alcohol.

The crew member stepped aside with a roll of his eyes, gesturing for them to quickly get inside and the heavy, water tight door sealed behind them. They had officially made it aboard the titanic.

“Come on, nephew! Let’s go say goodbye.” Peter dragged him through the throng of people that still littered the hallways, ducking into the third class section of the ship. The two raced to the edge of the vessel, throwing themselves against the rails to look down at the people on the land below them. “Goodbye! I’ll miss you! Goodbye!”

Derek turned to his Uncle, frowning at the blue eyed male like he had absolutely lost his mind. “Who are you saying goodbye to? Did you leave a lady behind that I should have known about before I accepted those tickets? Tickets, that so happen to be dragging your ass back to America.”

Peter scoffed like the idea was completely ridiculous, even though it was a fairly reasonable deduction. The older male may have a wife and children back home in America, but it didn’t mean he was loyal. Any pretty woman that he could get his hands on quickly became fair game to him and unfortunately, Derek was usually left with the cleanup. He just prayed that his Aunt Lynn would never find out that her husband was so unfaithful, or worse yet, his mother.

“No, you idiot. I’m only saying goodbye because it seems like the right thing to do. I mean, did we not after all, live here for a major portion of your life? Are we not leaving a part of ourselves behind in this wretched city? I should think so.” Leave it to his Uncle to come up with a deduction like that, but it was enough to convince Derek to wave down at the roaring crowd under him, adding to the deafening sound around him.

 

Yes, goodbye Europe and hello America. He would be with his family again by the end of the week.

 

* * *

 

Stiles glared up at the hulking form of the ship, adjusting his white blazer as if the clothes had personally offended him. The ship of dreams his ass, it was a ship of horrors taking him back to America with his captors. His fiancée, Lydia clopped over to him in her impeccable high heels, humming lightly under her breath.

“Beautiful ship, is it not darling?” Her red lips flashed up in a cold smile that didn’t reach her emerald eyes. Lydia Martin was exceptionally brilliant for a woman of her time and gold practically fell out her ears, but she was far from kind. She had her moments when Stiles was under the illusion that she was not the devil himself, but the actual beautiful woman that her body suggested she was. Unfortunately, those moments never lasted and he was stuck with the demon who his father had forced him to propose to.

“I see nothing special about it. It is hardly any bigger than any other ship I have seen.” He grumbled, moving to stand beside his father who gave him a withering look. They both knew Lydia could still easily back out of the marriage. Stiles did not exactly have the money to support her, but her mother had forced her into this marriage as much as his father had him. They did not love each other, they were only convenient in the way that arranged marriages usually were.

“I will have you know that this is the largest ship in the world and absolutely unsinkable. Jackson’s father was the man who built this ship, so you can assured that it is far more luxurious than any other that you have ever laid your eyes upon,” She leaned in close, strands of her strawberry blonde hair whipping against his face at the proximity. “Though you would not understand that with your simplistic brain, would you?”

Stiles scoffed and glowered down at his shoes like some chastised toddler. He could not reply without finding himself in trouble with his father, so he opted to keep his mouth shut as he always did at the mention of Jackson. Perfect Jackson with his rich daddy, beautiful tan skin, and shining white teeth. Jackson, who his fiance would always love and hold against Stiles for the rest of his life, for it was his fault that she was not marrying the man she loved and him instead. That, and the fact that Jackson could care less about the Lydia, despite her large dowry and ability to hold an actual conversation that went beyond her jewelry and clothing.

“Come now, we better hurry.” His father reprimanded, before sending a warm smile to Lydia. “My son will escort you my lady, and I will make sure that the staff sends our luggage to the correct rooms.”

Stiles took that as his cue to hold his arm out for Lydia, trying to remain featureless as the redhead hooked her own around his. “Will Jackson be joining us on board, Lydia?” He may feign ignorance, but he was no fool when it came to her affair with the rich Englishman. Lydia Martin did not just roll over quietly to her mother’s demands.

“Yes, actually. Though I fear that you will have to suffer through our long dinner discussions with him and his father. You will not mind, will you dear?” They stiffly handed their first class boarding tickets to the crew member in front of them, gliding forward to take their first steps aboard the large vessel.

“Oh, of course not. Why would I mind darling?” Lydia only pursed her lips, directing the man before them to show them to their rooms. The silence gave Stiles just enough time to take in the grandness of his surroundings. The deafening roar of the people behind them settled to a dull hum that fit in with the gentle buzz that lined the ship. It still smelled of freshly coated paint and newly waxed floors, only adding to the prestigious atmosphere. Maybe the Titanic would not be all that bad, and he would be able to find a way to enjoy it before facing the harsh reality that going back to America promised him.

He separated from Lydia with little more than a chaste kiss on her gloved knuckles, retreating into his own parlor that came attached to the room. The waves rose up and caressed the side of the ship as it slowly began to travel faster, the horn resonating through the hazy afternoon with hope. Leave it to the Martins to cancel their reservations aboard another vessel that was just as worthy, just to reserve a place aboard a ship that was leaving for America at an earlier date. He did not see what all the fuss was about, it was only a ship on her first maiden voyage, unsinkable or not, he did not care. He almost wished for her to sink so he could avoid returning home for a little while longer.

America was supposed to be the land of dreams and opportunity, but that would not be the case for him. Once they arrived, the wedding would take place and he would forever be tethered to Lydia Martin, a woman who scoffed at the idea of taking his last name and becoming his wife. The very same woman who could not remain faithful to him even before marriage. Yes, he wanted to carry on his line, but not like this, not with someone he did not love. However, he had no choice in the matter and neither did she. Lydia would be his bride by the end of the year and they would be set to the task of children. The only good thing that would come of this marriage would be that his father no longer would have to worry about the growing pile of bills that the Martins had been kept in the dark about.

~*~

  
Night descended quickly upon them, driving the two “lovers” and their parents from their lovely, furnished rooms down to the dining hall. The soft chatter and chinking of silverware against gleaming dishes met his ears the moment the elevator shaft doors opened. A small orchestra played in the center of the room, deftly drawing out the notes with the skill of professionals.

A young woman appeared before them, tawny brown hair pulled up into a elegant bun that accentuated the proud arch of her brows. Lydia looked to her in distaste, but she said nothing to the girl who introduced herself as Malia. This left the polite introductions to Stiles who introduced first himself, then his fiancée and her mother, and lastly his own father who squeezed his shoulder in confirmation that he had done well. The conversation was brief and Lydia remained cold, though he didn’t really expect any different. Malia was what the Martins called new money, only coming into the first class world by sheer luck, or so Lydia and her mother believed.

Dinner passed in a blur of small chat and fancy dinner courses that, while they tasted amazing, did nothing for Stiles. He did not feel in the mood to play nice with Lydia tonight and obviously his fiancée agreed since they kept their conversation to a minimum. They had hardly spoken more than a sentence or two to one another by the time they made their way back to their rooms to retire for the night.

“Goodnight Lydia, sleep well. I will see you in the morning.” The words fell mechanically off of his tongue, met by a curt nod and a door being closed in his face. The joys of being betrothed to Lydia Martin. He sighed and strode into his own room, quickly undressing and pulling on a nightshirt over his pale, exposed chest. A window had been left slightly ajar, letting in the salty sea breeze that rested easily on his tongue. Part of him wondered whether or not he should close the window before his room became too cold, but he decided against it, sliding underneath the warm duvet that adorned his bed. It was not long before his eyes slid shut and the world fell into the dark abyss known as slumber.

~*~

  
Stiles awoke early the next morning to the sounds of servants rushing into his room, laying out a suit for him and opening the drapes. A chill had taken over in the night, coming in from the slightly cracked window that had let in the peaceful sounds of the ocean, but now the sound was accompanied by cold. “Close the window, would you? It’s cold.” He watched a handsome servant rush to comply to his demands, latching the window closed with ease. “That will be all, thank you.” He grumbled, pulling the white dress shirt over his head.

By the time he was ready to escort Lydia down to breakfast his mood had already soured. Jackson, his father, Malia, and a few others would be joining the Stilinski/Martin party. The talk of the table quickly turned to the Titanic, speaking of how she was built and all the little things that made her so immaculate. At least it answered a few of his questions as to why this ship was supposedly so special, but the talk was dull and every time he tried to liven it up he would be scolded by his fiancée and his father alike.

He glowered as his cigar was stripped from his mouth and rubbed into ashes by Lydia as the girl shot him a withering look. If she did not wish him to speak then she needed to understand he had to find some way to preoccupy himself. The talk was boring and it was insulting to watch the girl he was supposed to marry make doe eyes at another man, whether he loved her or not was not the point.

“If you would excuse me.” He mumbled, taking leave from the stuffy, formal atmosphere of the first class dining hall and stepping onto the deck. The sea breeze gently ran its fingers through his hair, caressing his face with its cool touch. It would have been cold if he was not wearing a jacket and the sun were not shining so brilliantly down on him like the warmth of a blanket or his mother’s embrace.

The loud voices of the third class deck drew Stiles to the rail, looking out over the expanse of the ship to the horizon line. Only blue ocean and sky stood before him, easy to predict what he would see next, just like his life. It may be dazzling at first, but it eventually became dull and the wonder fell away. Life had lost its wonder many years prior when his mother passed and his father fell into so much debt he was forced to marry him off to stay afloat.

He snorted at the irony of his life, a handsome rich boy with nothing to look forward to other than extravagant parties and freshly tailored suits. Hell, he had his own waiting staff and a beautiful woman who he would be marrying the moment he reached his manor back in America. How terrible really, he must have it so hard. Stiles felt his honey colored eyes drift down to the people on the deck below, stopping on a group of three men. Two of them seemed about his age while the other looked only a few years younger than his own father, but he was enamored. One of the men had rich dark hair and stubble to match that complimented his olive tone beautifully, and his eyes were trained on Stiles.

The boy felt himself flesh under the heady gaze, examining the pad of paper that the other held in his large hands. It looked like a drawing of some sort, maybe he was an artist? He could not get a better look, however, because Lydia had found him and she was seething with rage. It was not proper to leave one’s fiancée behind, but Stiles could hardly give a damn about etiquette right now.

“Get back in there, you are making me look bad in front of our guests!” She hissed, pushing her strawberry blonde hair back from her face.

“Our guests? You mean Jackson? It should hardly matter Lydia, you are betrothed to me, are you not? Are we not stuck to admire those who catch our interest from far away, or is there some news you would like to share? Perhaps, it will bring light upon our situation?” He really must have a death wish, and the way Lydia’s hair caught in the sunlight was not helping his fears in the slightest. She looked like she had a halo of flames surrounding her as she fumed beside him.

“No, I have nothing to say to you other than return to the table at once. I would hate to be left without my darling fiancé.” So the unspoken truth would stay hidden. He could deal with that. If Lydia were to publicly admit that she was having an affair in the midst of their courting she would be smearing her name through the dirt, and even though it might make his father call off their wedding, it would ruin any of her chances to be with Jackson. She would be stuck as his mistress for the rest of her life with the knowledge that her husband whom she does not love is quite aware of what she is doing. It was how their situation was.

By the time they returned, breakfast had been finished and they were left to engage themselves in their own activities, reuniting for lunch which which quickly melted into dinner. The lights of the Titanic burned like its own sun in the dark night as she made her way through the ocean, steadily drawing nearer to her destination.

Dinner was much like breakfast in that the discussion was boring and Stiles found himself staring despairingly down at his plate. He found no appetite and the quiet laughter that sprung up all around him was becoming suffocating in the way that it was so obviously faux. This was his life, forced small talk that would never find any meaning or depth, only to be forgotten once the presence of the person had surely faded. His mother had been good at dragging him back to reality, keeping the conversation interesting while still educated. How she had done it, he may never understand, but he missed it. He missed her and her bright smile and kind eyes, but there was no one to draw him from his depressing thoughts now. No one there to liven him up with a beautiful smile that was actually full of love for once.

It was becoming too much, he could not breath, he had to leave. “Excuse me,” He muttered, clambering out of his chair and rushing from the room with a particular destination in mind.

Stiles pushed servants out of his way, feeling the burning tracks of tears as they fell down his face and onto the polished wooden deck beneath his feet. He was not going back to America. He refused to marry Lydia, refused to see the disappointment in his father’s eyes, refused to deal with the dull ache that had become a roaring pain in his chest. Before he knew it, he was climbing over the edge of the railing, looking down at the black expanse of the ocean under him. All he had to do now was let go and his problems would finally desert him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Derek had to get away from his annoying Uncle. The older man had been pestering him to find a nice lady to bring back to their room for a little fun, but he had found no interest in it and had decided to lay out on a bench towards the back of the ship. The faint light of his cigarette mixed in with the dazzling white stars that lay above his head, a glowing orange light in a sea of black and white. He would return soon, not being able to leave Peter alone for long in fear that he might do something stupid that could get them thrown off the ship, but for now he was enjoying the peace and quiet that the cold night brought him.

Only that reverie was broken by the sound of rushed footsteps and the hitched breathing that was unmistakably crying. Pulling himself up with a soft sigh, Derek let his eyes adjust to the dark night that hung on the horizon, focusing on the well dressed man before him that was currently pulling himself over the rail. It was the same first class male who had caught his eyes earlier while he had been talking with Peter and another third class passenger by the name of Scott McCall. The Scottish lad had laughed at him when he caught him staring up at the beautiful boy, jokingly telling him that he was way out of his league. Of course, neither his Uncle nor his new friend realized that he had an interest in men, it wasn’t appropriate and he would burn in the depths of hell for such a sin, but Derek always did like to play with fire.

“You don’t want to do that.” He called, walking closer to the boy so he could take in his slightly upturned nose and mole spattered skin. It was easy to make out the tears as they rolled down the stranger’s face, marring his beautiful features with a look of absolute anguish and sorrow. What could have possibly driven this boy to looking so utterly helpless? He thought that those of higher standing were above pain and anguish, but he had very clearly been mistaken.

“Do not presume what I do and do not wish to do. You do not know me.” The boy hissed, his honey eyes meeting Derek’s for a fleeting moment before returning to the black, turning water below.

Derek held up his hands in surrender, inching closer to the other as carefully as he possibly could. He would never forgive himself if he were to make the male jump off the ship when he so obviously didn’t actually want to take his life. “Okay, you’re right. Sorry sir, mind if I…?” He gestured to the cigarette that was still lit in his mouth, wobbling precariously with each word.

The boy frowned and shook his head, almost gesturing for Derek to go ahead before thinking better of it, keeping a firm grip on the railing that he was still dangerously hanging off of. The darker haired male carefully moved forward, throwing the cigarette down into the water below, using it as an excuse to stand beside the boy, just within reach if he slipped or decided to jump.

“Look, I hate to jump to conclusions here, especially when I don’t know you, but if you really wanted to jump you would have done it by now, so why don’t you take my hand and come back over?” He reached a hand out, slowly trying to take one of those long pale ones in his.

“It is because you are distracting me! Now just leave me in peace!” Despite his words, the boy still inched closer as if being drawn to the safety that Derek was providing him from behind.

“Well you see I can’t do that because I’m involved now. If I were to just walk away I would never forgive myself, so if you jump… Well, I’ll just have to jump in after you,” The male’s honey brown eyes widened at that, almost twisting his body around so that he could get a better view of the stranger. “Yeah, it’s going to suck though. I mean, I’m not to fond of the idea of drowning so I guess it’s a good thing I’m a good swimmer. The thing that worries me though is how cold that water is.” Derek shuddered, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders like this was a normal conversation to have with someone ready to commit suicide.

“The water…? How cold?” This time the boy made an attempt to pull himself closer to the railing, strong arms tensing to keep him from falling.

“Freezing really. It’s going to feel like a thousand knifes are piercing your skin all at once. You’ll probably go numb and air will become hard to take in… It’s why I’m not to excited about jumping in after you.” He sighed and leaned against the railing beside the stranger, looking down into the water with a face devoid of fear, just slight reluctance. “We don’t have to go for a swim though, just take my hand and I’ll pull you over.”

“Okay…” The boy carefully reached over and wrapped his long, frozen finger’s around Derek’s hand, holding tightly to him like a lifeline. It took a bit of maneuvering, but they were able to get him to turn around without falling over the side. Instantly, Derek place one hand on the male’s side, keeping his firm grip on boy’s hand.

“My name is Derek Hale.” He allowed himself to smile softly, feeling a little better now that the boy was facing the ship instead of away from it.

“Stiles Stilinski… at least, that is the name I use since no one ever seems to be able to say my birth name. I am cursed like that I guess.” Stiles’ lips turned up in a smirk, snorting softly at his own joke. It was a much needed change after the heavy atmosphere that had taken hold of them when the boy had first stepped over the railing.

“I’ll take your word for it. Maybe you’ll have to write it out for me sometime, you know, so I can give it a shot. For now, let’s focus on getting you back on the ship.” Stiles nodded in agreement, carefully placing his feet on another rung on the slippery rails. The next thing he knew they were both pitching towards the water, with only Derek keeping Stiles from plummeting to his death.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Please do not let go! Oh my God! Help! Help!” Stiles was frantically trying to grab hold of the railing, Derek, anything that would keep him from falling. His screams stabbing through Derek worse than any freezing cold water could. He wouldn’t let this boy fall, no way.

“Grab onto the railing and pull yourself up! I’ve got you, I won’t let you go. I promise you Stiles!” There was a frantic second when he almost lost his grip, and then he was pulling the boy over, falling down onto the deck with a loud crash. They were panting and Stiles had started crying again, clinging helplessly to Derek like he was still falling. “I promised you I wouldn’t let you fall, didn’t I?” He whispered in his ear, cradling him to his chest, rocking back and forth as they listened to their racing heartbeats.

Stiles allowed himself a breathless laugh falling down onto his back and bringing Derek over top of him. “Yes, yes you did. Thank you, Derek Hale.”

“Hey, you! You third class mutt, get your hands off of him!” Calloused hands gripped Derek from behind, yanking him off of Stilinski in a flurry of coats and confusion. Leave it to him to get into trouble for saving the boy’s life. He was going to be thrown overboard or forced to wash the decks for sure. Curse his weakness for attractive young men.

“Stiles? Stiles, oh dear are you alright? You were crying, did he try and assault you?” The pretty redhead from earlier descended upon them like a demon rising from Hell, coming to take back what was rightfully hers.

“I am fine, Lydia. Besides, Derek here saved my life, he did not try and harm me in any way,” Stiles was met with a firm gaze that screamed disbelief. “I wanted to see the propellers and I leaned over too far. I must have stumbled, you know how clumsy I can be, and Mr. Hale here pulled me back over before I could plummet to my death. He was just about thrown over the side with me. I owe him my life.”

The girl, Lydia, turned her attention to Derek with a frown pulling down her perfect features into a look of discontent. She clearly did not like what she saw, but made no further comment on the matter before turning back to the shivering male beside her. “Stiles, you must be freezing! Here,” She snatched a blanket from the hands of a waiting servant, wrapping the thick blanket around his strong shoulders. “Let us go back to your room where you can warm up. Your father is quite worried about where you ran off too, but I will send him to your room for you to debrief him on what just happened here.”

Meanwhile, Derek made himself busy by returning his coat to his person, slipping the warm material around him once more and pulling on his boots. It’s not like he expected a thank you from anyone, but it was annoying that the scornful looks hadn’t died down in the slightest.

“My lady? What about the man who so bravely saved your fiancé? Does he not deserve a reward?” An older man dressed in a black tailored suit shot him a look, taking notice of his clothing and untied shoes.

“What? Oh, give him a twenty or something, that should be enough.” She waved her hand dismissively, escorting Stiles towards the first class deck once more.

“A twenty is the going rate for the life of your beloved? Really Lydia, I’m hurt.” The male’s honey brown eyes flashed in an expression that could not be determined between amusement and actual distress, but it stopped the girl dead in her tracks.

“Stiles is not pleased…? Of course not, you are worth much more than money. Fine then, Mr. Hale shall join us for dinner if he would like?” Derek nodded, noticing the slight raise to Stiles’ lips in obvious victory. “Then you shall entertain us of your heroic feats in the first class dining hall tomorrow evening at ten o'clock. Come on dear, we should get you inside.” This time the boy allowed himself to be escorted away, drawing the blanket further around himself for warmth.

“I have to say, it is rather baffling that the young sir slipped so suddenly and yet you still had time to remove your shoes and coat. Hmm…” The old man raised an eyebrow knowingly, and Derek found himself highly doubting that anyone had believed Stiles’ story. However, the younger of the two chose not to comment on the other man’s deductions, simply shrugging his shoulders as if it hardly mattered. It honestly shouldn’t matter, Stiles was alive and safe, free to go back to the perfect world and fancy parties that he had come from.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then? Night.” Derek called over his shoulder, slipping down below decks for some much needed sleep and time alone to his thoughts. He pulled the thin blankets over himself, staring into the dark room that he shared with Peter and two others. He hardly had time to think before his eyes fell closed and the world shut off around him. All was quiet apart from the sound of the waves slapping against the hull and the distant echo of laughter of a first class boy whom he had no hope of attaining. Those honey brown eyes haunted him in his sleep, as he was sure they would for many years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure on whether or not I will continue this fanfiction, it depends on the response I get. I may continue it because I really do love these two and the idea of them taking on the roles of Jack and Rose, but every comment and kudos that I get really helps with motivation to continue putting out chapters. Right now I'm planning on this fic only being three or four, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see!


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for the wait for the second chapter of this story. It has been just over a year since I posted the first chapter and I feel really bad for never coming back to finish it, but here is why, feel free to laugh because I sure did (after I cried). I wrote a large portion of the last chapter and the beginning half of this chapter using an old email account, but then I forgot the password to it so I could no longer access this story, thus I decided to give up on it because there was no way I was rewriting everything. Each chapter takes me about twelve hours to write, so I was like, yeah no. Anyways, I found the password for the email today and spent all day finishing this second chapter and I only have one or two left to write, so hopefully you won't have to wait another year for content lol Anyways, enjoy!

Stiles rolled the dazzling piece of jewelry in his palm and examined every smooth edge of the blue stone. It was gorgeous, much like the woman who had worn it before her untimely death. The boy shut his eyes to the onslaught of memories that threatened to bring tears to his eyes once more. He did, however, allow one memory to slip through the cracks.

_He had been pulling a nightshirt over his head when a light knock interrupted him. His father, Noah, had walked in without awaiting a reply, making his way over to his son with a weak smile. “I know you have been melancholy as of late, so I thought I could bring you something to lighten your mood.”_

_The old man held out a wooden box that had been painted silver, a delicate rose had been carved into the surface in a style that was obviously his mother's. Stiles could feel his throat closing up at the realization, wanting nothing more than to turn his gaze away. “Dad…” He whispered, gently taking the box from his father with shaking hands._

_“It was your mother's favorite necklace. I bought it for her as a wedding gift when our family still had money to throw around. I thought it would accentuate that spark in her eyes that I always loved.” With a gentle flick of his wrist, the elder of the two opened the box to reveal a gleaming diamond. The blue of the gem seemed to catch fire in the light of the candle, reflecting Stiles’ face on its surface. His pale skin and moles stood out in a distorted image, honey brown eyes tracing the silver chain to a strong clasp._

_“My God, is this a…?”_

_“Diamond? Yes. 56 carats to be exact.” His father beamed proudly, ruffling his son’s hair with the type of fatherly affection that Stiles had almost forgotten. It made his heart ache even more for a time that had long been abandoned. A time when his family lived joyously._

_“It was once worn by Louis the Sixteenth. They call it Le Coeur de la Mer,_ _  
_ _the…”_

_“The Heart of the Ocean… Dad, I could not possibly…” He began, only to be cut off by his father once more._

_“I hope you to give this to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. I am sure she will be flattered.”_

_Stiles did not miss the obvious meaning behind his father's words, but he chose to ignore him. Instead, the ghost of dark hair and stubble invaded his thoughts, flushing his cheeks pink. His father's low chuckle only made him blush more even though the old man could not possibly understand the true reason his son was so embarrassed._

_He closed the box with a light snap, flashing his father a grateful smile. “Thank you, and I will.”_

Now he sat in the silence of his room, alone with a diamond that had once belonged to his mother and royalty. Only the best for his mom. That's what his father had always said. He had paid every dime in their bank to keep her beautiful smile on her face. If only he had realized that she had never cared about the expensive jewelry or fancy dresses that he always bought for her. For his mother, it was always about her two favorite boys. Simply having Stiles and his father around was more than enough for her and Stiles had always felt the same way.

‘Your father will never understand us, sweetheart. He believes that the way to our hearts is through money that we do not possess. It does not mean he lacks love for us, he simply loves in a different way than we do.’ He had heard her say this on numerous occasions, gently carding her fingers through his hair while he cried about his father's neglect. The man never seemed to have time for him, always busy working so he could spend more money on things they did not want or need.

Maybe it was the cause of these feelings he felt for Derek. Even though the man was of a lower class, he could not bring himself to care about how much money the other possessed. Instead, all he could think about was the man's strong arms and steady voice pulling him from the depths of despair. With a drawn-out sigh, Stiles returned the necklace to its case and put it in the safe. Technically the safe was Lydia’s, but he could hardly be bothered to care.

One day he would have to place the necklace around his fianceés neck and watch as she ran off with another man. No, Lydia Martin may be intelligent and stunning, but she was not the love of his life. It would make his life easier if she was; however, he would never be handed over such a luxury.   


Derek’s laughter mingled with the boisterous atmosphere of the steerage deck. Mothers held their babies while cooing to them in multiple languages and children ran around creating havoc that only a child’s imagination could create. A group of boys scrambled past the small group of men consisting of Derek, his Uncle, and Scott, chasing after a rat.

His focus was once again directed towards the small girl in his lap who tugged on his dirty white shirt to gain his attention. She had drawn a rather odd face in the corner of his sketchbook. The eyes of her creation were ovals and the hair a birds nest that sat atop a square head. He couldn't tell whether it was supposed to be male or female or even human at all.

“I see, I raise your funny faced square with a,” He stole the charcoal from her blackened fingertips with a slight smirk. Derek easily swept the utensil across the drawing paper, making a misshapen circle and large teeth that stuck out of a lopsided mouth. “Still-life drawing of my Uncle Peter.”

The girl, Marie, giggled and stole a glance at the oblivious man in question. He was currently trying to chat up a pretty young thing who looked completely uninterested. Scott, on the other hand, was in luck.

“You speak Japanese then?” The younger man was hopelessly enamored with the raven-haired girl who simply shot him a shy smile.

“Yes, and little English.” She kissed Scott’s cheek with exasperated affection. The girl, Kira, suddenly froze and her eyebrows flew up in surprise.

Scott frowned and followed her field of vision and did a double take before reaching over and punching Derek’s arm to gain his attention. It was pointless, in his opinion, since he was already turning to look.

Stiles was carefully making his way to their small group, squirming uncomfortably when he noticed how many people had stopped what they were doing to stare at him in a mixture of awe and distaste. However, he held his chin up high and quickly stepped in front of Derek. He spared Marie a hesitant smile before turning his attention solely to him and Derek couldn’t figure out whether that made him feel special or nervous.

“Hello, Derek.” Scott and Peter both froze in shock, staring at him as if he had suddenly grown a tail and told them he was joining the circus.

“Hello again, Stiles.”

“Could I speak to you in private?” The younger boy asked, gesturing towards the first class side of the ship as if it was the most normal thing to invite a low class man like Derek into a place full of aristocracy and judgement. If Stiles felt out of place here then Derek would be from a different planet in the other male’s domain. Still, he stood and gently placed Marie onto the deck with a gentle nod.

“Uh yes, of course you can.” He gestured lamely for Stiles to show the way. “After you.” Peter laughed disbelievingly behind him and Derek nodded slightly in agreement. What had his life come to?

He stood beside Stiles, trying to ignore the men and women around them who gave him disapprovingly looks. Was he standing too close? His clothes felt suddenly wrong and too rough to be meddling in a crowd like this, but he could do nothing to ease his worries, so he settled on merely fiddling with the faded material of his shirt. Stiles was silent next to him, moving stiffly like he too was uncomfortable and out of his element. It made Derek feel slightly better about his situation.

“So, you going to tell me your real name or am I stuck with the easy version?” Stiles smiled slightly at his question, it was thin, but it was progress.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” He laughed when Derek made a face of complete and utter surprise. 

“That’s quite a moniker, I’m definitely going to need to get you to write that one down for me.” A bought of silence dragged on between them, the wind and the chatter of the first class the only thing that filled it, and the white noise did nothing to make it less awkward.

“Mr. Hale, I…”

“Derek.” He quickly intervened, shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Hale was my father and it seems way to formal.”

“Derek… Sorry, I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you and now that I have I am at a loss for how to express myself.” Stiles awkwardly ran a hand through his immaculate hair and pouted at the ocean as if it would aid him. “I wanted to thank you, for last night. Not simply because you… you pulled me back, but also for your discretion. I am much obliged to you.”

“There’s no need to thank me Stiles.” Derek carefully placed his hand on the boys thin shoulder only to have it shrugged off.

“I know what you must be thinking. The poor rich boy who has everything wants to throw it all away simply because a few things have not gone his way. What does he know about misery and hardship?”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” He lowered his head to look at the boy through his eyelashes, gauging his reaction. “What I was thinking was what could have hurt this man so much that he thought he had no other way out.”  

“I…” Stiles growled in frustration. “It was not purely one thing. It was everything. It was them!” He gestured frantically around him as if that would explain what he was trying to say. “It was their whole world! And I was trapped in it, I am still am, like an insect trapped in amber.” His words became rushed with anger and desperation as if he could still feel their oppressive hands reaching out to hold him back. “I had to get away. I had to run and run and never look back, but then I was standing at the end of the ship. Not even the Titanic was big enough to get away from them. Before I had thought about it too much I was over the rail and staring into the water. I would show them! They would be the sorry ones!”

Derek watched as Stiles’ chest heaved up and down and the wind ripped through his hair, tousling it around in the strong breeze. He looked beautiful and devastated in that moment. “They would be sorry, alright. Of course, you would be dead.”

He lowered his head, looking ashamed of himself. He looked so small and broken. “I am an utter fool.”

“That red head last night. The one in the fancy dress that showed off all her curves and edges, is she one of them?”

“One of them?” Stiles scoffed softly. “She is them.”

A wry smile of amusement rippled across Derek’s face. “She your girlfriend or something?”

The boy groaned and put his face in his hands. “Worse, we are engaged to be married when we return to America.”

“Good God, she must be damn rich for you to be marrying her if that’s your attitude.” The two laughed, folding against each other like it was the most natural thing for them to do. A passing steward glared at Derek but quickly backed down under Stiles’ withering gaze. “So you feel like you’re stuck on a train you can’t get off of because you’re marrying this girl?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Ever heard of people who jump off of trains? It’s simple, just don’t marry her.”

Stiles shook his head sadly. “If only it were that simple.” Derek gave him a look that he knew clearly read that he thought otherwise and the boy deflated. “Please refrain from judging me until you have seen my world.”

“I guess I will, tonight.” The mere mention of what he was expected to do that night put him on edge. He had never been to a fancy dinner before. The most extravagant meal he had had was a home cooked one when his family was still all together.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. He took his sketchbook from Derek’s slackened grip and starts thumbing through them. He was suddenly glad that he had left the page he and Marie had been drawing on back with the little girl.   
“Just some sketches.”

Derek carefully sat next to Stiles, watching as his long fingers ghosted above the lines etched by charcoal. An old woman's hands full of wrinkles and withering life lay softly on the page as if she had fallen asleep while Derek had drawn them. She truly had, but he said nothing about it. The young man carefully moved to the next drawing, a man sleeping in the streets of Paris. Then a father and daughter at the rail, their faces gaunt with poverty and hunger but a bright gleam of life reflecting in their still eyes.

“Derek, these are beautiful! Really, they are!” Honey eyes ripped themselves away from the pages to connect with his and he almost forgot how to breathe.

“Well, they didn’t think too much of them in old Paree.”

Stiles frowned at that and carefully turned to the next drawing, a gasp catching in his throat. “Well, well… quite scandalous.”

The women and men in the drawings were completely bare to the world, their bodies and hearts on display from where they have been etched into the paper forever. Each stroke of charcoal and every placement of their bodies told a story and exuded beauty. Derek was rather proud of those drawings because they stripped people naked for the world to see, both physically and metaphorically.

“Are these all…” Stiles coughed, obviously embarrassed if his red cheeks were anything to go by. “Drawn from life?”

“Yup, that’s one of the great things about Paris. Everyone is willing to take their clothes off.” He grinned when more blood rushed to the boy’s face, coloring his ears and neck in a gorgeous pink hue.

“You liked this woman,” Stiles mumbled, staring down at the drawing in his hands. Her body was bathed in half light, her hands her placed under her chin. One hand was furled and the other opened like a blooming flower, languid and graceful. “You used her several times.”

“She had beautiful hands.” He leaned over Stiles’ shoulders to point to her hands, drawing attention away from her nude frame. A surge of warmth spread from the pit of his stomach when he saw the boy smile.

“I think you must have had a love affair with her.”

“No, no! Just her hands!” Derek laughed, pulling back from the boy so he could take in his flushed cheeks and gorgeous smile. “I was never interested in women that way.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open into an “O” shape, and honey eyes searched Derek’s as if he could find the punchline to an untold joke. “You have a gift, Derek.” He finally whispered, never breaking eye contact. “You see people.”

“I see you.”

“And…?” It suddenly felt hard to breath despite the fresh, open air around them. He could never say what he truly wanted to say.   
  
“You wouldn’t have jumped.” He almost took it back when he saw the disappointment in Stiles’ eyes.

* * *

 

Stiles could hardly keep the smile from his face as he strolled alongside Derek, taking in the midday sun with an approving nod. The day felt more lively with the man standing next to him despite it being like any other.   
“You know, my dream has always been to simply chuck it all and become an artist,” He announced, slightly breathless with joy. “Living in a garret, poor but free!”

Derek laughed from beside him, standing much closer than he had when they had first slipped into first class together. It made the younger man feel somewhat prideful that he could set the other at ease. “You wouldn’t last two days. There’s no hot water and hardly ever any caviar.”

Stiles frowned and whirled on the man beside him, anger rising in his throat like bile. “Listen here mister! I hate caviar! And I am tired of people dismissing my dreams with a laugh and a patronizing pat on the head.” His mother had never done that to him and she had always spoke out against anyone who tried. In her absence he had begun to let everyone and everything dictate his actions. He had accepted it with slumped shoulders and a defeated sigh. Stiles resolved that he would no longer allow that to happen.

“I’m sorry,” The smile slid from Derek’s face and he genuinely look apologetic. “Really, I am.”

“Well, alright then. My mother was always one to tell me to speak my mind and not allow this world to change me.” He sighed and threw the man an apologetic smile. “I have ignored her words for too long and I think it is about time I start to listen to her again. She was always one to advocate for following one’s heart.”

They walked around for hours, laughing, talking, and learning about each other’s worlds. They simply found themselves enjoying the newfound company. There were no formalities in their speech and the way they had gravitated towards one another. For once, Stiles had let himself act carefree.

The sun was setting below the horizon, setting the ocean and the sky ablaze in wondrous pink and gold light. They had found a more deserted portion of the boat deck and were soaking in the wondrous view with languid smiles.

“I grew up in a small town in California called Beacon Hills and moved away with my family when jobs grew thin and money grew tight. I worked a few odd jobs doing various forms of extensive labor before we decided that America no longer had the opportunities that my family needed. So we sailed to Europe. We all stayed for a few years until we had enough money to buy back my family home on the preserve and send the women back while my father, Uncle, and I stayed behind to make a little more before following suit. During that time I went to Paris and tried to make it as an artist, but you already know how that turned out.” The man shrugged, staring out at the ocean before flickering his gaze back to Stiles.

“I want to be like you, Derek. Heading out for the horizon whenever I feel like it. I realize you had little choice in coming to Europe, much like I did, but you made the most of it while you were there. You saw places, people, you did spectacular things while I simply attended galas and dull political discussions.” He dropped his chin into his hands and stared resolutely at the water below them. “I want to go with you to see these places that you talk about.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll take you to see the world, I promise. You won’t be stuck in this boring aristocratic lifestyle forever, Stiles.” A smile spread across Derek’s face. “We’ll go to that pier I was telling you about and drink cheap beer and ride horses on the beach. It will be amazing, I promise.”

The younger man perked up at the idea and turned to Derek with what he assumed was an expression filled with hope. “I would love that.”

“I’ll teach you to spit like a man too,” Derek’s eyes scrutinized Stiles’ face in mock evaluation. “I bet they don’t teach you that at your fancy boarding schools.”  

A shocked laugh ripped its way from his throat and disturbed a sleeping bird next to them. “No! They most certainly did not!”

The older man laughed and gathered spit in his mouth before leaning forward and sending it flying out into the ocean to mix with the salt water below. Oh god, what has he gotten himself into this time? Stiles try to recreate what the other man did, but it was a pitiful attempt that left Derek roaring in mirth.

“You have to really hawk it down! Like this,” Derek started to gather spit again, but froze when Stiles yelped and ripped him away from the railings, face burning in embarrassment. Lydia, her mother, Malia, and a few other women stood staring at them with disgust clearly written on their faces. His fiancée looked about ready to throw him overboard which would be particularly ironic considering similar circumstances are what drew him to meet Derek in the first place.

“Mrs. Martin, may I introduce you to Derek Hale. The man who saved my life.”

“Charmed, I am sure.”

Stiles smiled awkwardly and continued to introduce the esteemed women to the man beside him, withering under Lydia’s gaze. She looked at Derek as if her were a dangerous insect that needed to be squashed under one of her terrifying heels. Malia casually pointed at something on Derek’s chin and from the corner of his eye Stiles saw him wipe spit off with a dirtied sleeve. A groan almost cascaded from his lips in that moment because of course that was his luck.

“Well it sounds like Derek is a good man to have around in a sticky spot.” Malia giggled graciously with a flourish of her hand that was halted at the sound of the bugler. The group gasped in surprise. “Why must they always insist on announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?”

A surge of gratitude rose in Stiles as the women around him turned their disapproving gaze to Malia. They obviously abhorred her use of filthy language. “Shall we go change for dinner, darling?” The words sounded forced, not as elegant as he would have liked, but Lydia sent him a gracious smile anyway and took his arm so he could lead her back to her room. He had to physically restrain himself from turning to look over his shoulder at Derek as they disappeared.

* * *

 

The rich white material of the suit Malia had adorned him in clung to his muscled arms lightly, leaving just the right amount of space for movement. It fit surprisingly well and he had to admit that he looked nice. However, he was nervous and uncomfortable as he stood at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at the clock. When would Stiles and his party arrive? Perhaps they already had and he would stand here like an idiot for the rest of the night. The thought did nothing to put his mind at ease.

His hazel eyes wandered over to the man beside him, carefully studying how he held himself. He had an arm placed carefully behind his straightened spine and a rise to his chin so he could look down on the people around him. Derek casually tried to recreate the look as he stiffly moved his arm in an attempt not to draw attention to himself.

The sight of Lydia and the man he assumed to be Stiles’ father caused his hands to sweat, nonetheless, he stepped forward to greet them only to shrink back when they didn’t notice him. Maybe it was the suit and the fact that he had taken a proper bath for the first time in a week.

“Derek.” His eyes flickered up to where Stiles stood, his honey eyes shimmering with mirth and something else. His gaze raked up and down his body and Derek noticed that the other boy was doing the same to him.

A soft, “Oh,” expelled itself from his lips as he realized Stiles was checking him out. “Stiles, you look as handsome as ever.” The two men moved closer to one another, brushing fingertips together like a soft promise. Everything would be okay. Unfortunately, it would be inappropriate for them to escort one another considering they were both men, so they stayed close instead, relishing in the warmth that the other provided.

“Father, this is Derek Hale, the man I told you about.” Stiles interjected in the conversation Lydia was having with a blond man, who was doing nothing to hide the way he was looking at her. His gaze held more affection than was appropriate to look at an engaged woman with. Not that he was one to talk considering he too was eyeing the elegant man beside him.

“Ah yes, the hero that saved my son’s life.” Mr. Stilinski gripped his hand in his with a tired smile. “Thank you, Mr. Hale.”

Derek didn’t bother correcting him. He figured the use of his surname might make him seem more sophisticated. “Anytime, sir. Although, I must say, I do hope that Stiles never finds himself in a situation like that again.”

A murmur of agreement broke out around the crowd before the group descended into the reception room where the soft candescence of music washed over them.

Malia caught up to them, looking like a vision in black and pearls that accentuated the top of her breasts, but not in an unsophisticated manner. “Ain’t nothing to it, is there Derek?”

His lips twitched up at her informal speech, gracefully taking her arm in his. “Oh no, you just dress like a pallbearer and keep your nose up.”

“Remember, they don’t care about anything other than money, so just pretend you have a lot of it and you’re in the club.” She casually slipped off of his arm and onto the arm of another man, giggling loudly at something he said.

Derek jumped at the brush of Stiles’ lips against his ear as the young man leaned in to whisper the latest gossip to him. He learned some interesting things about the company the first class kept. There was a woman who designed naughty lingerie that stood in a corner talking to a governess. Another girl, a pretty young thing, was married to a man three times her age and sporting a noticeable baby bump which she desperately tried to hide from the judging eyes of the men and women around her. He would almost rather go swimming with the sharks in the freezing water than socialize with these people, but he stayed for Stiles.

They moved into the dining saloon and his breath caught in his throat. It was like a ballroom in a palace, adorned by a constellation of glittering chandeliers. Men, and women in elegant dresses, glide across the dance floor as though their feet never once had to touch the ground. Their group sat at a sizable table that was almost larger than his room down below decks.

“Tell me, Mr. Hale, how are the accommodations in steerage? I hear they are quite good on this ship. Not that I would know, of course.” Lydia pressed her plump red lips together with a glare as if she could have set him on fire with merely a look.

A patient smile made its way across Derek’s face as he stared into her large emerald eyes. “The best I’ve seen ma’am. Hardly any rats.” The group chuckled around him but tried to hide their amusement behind their napkins. A cough from Stiles drew his attention and he noticed the boy quickly glance at the napkin obstructing Derek’s plate and motioned for him to remove it. He flushed slightly and quickly placed it in his lap before anyone could notice.

“Mr. Hale is joining us from third class. He was of some assistance to my beloved Stiles last night.” Lydia informed the group, her mouth twitching disdainfully on the word beloved. Whispers rose up from around the table and the group turned disgusted eyes on him like he had chosen his social class. He huffed quietly under his breath, but nodded his head and smiled at them like they weren’t judging him.

“How would you like your caviar, sir?” A servant asked, holding a spoon out to him.

“No caviar for me, thanks,”  Derek’s eyes flickered over to Stiles and a small smirk pulled up his lips. “Never did like it much.”

The night continued in a barrage of degrading comments masked in politeness, but it was improved by the sideways glances and little quips that Stiles and Derek threw out that they knew would make the other laugh or smile. It became a game to see if they could have a conversation without blatantly doing so.

Stiles let his gaze travel to the tired looking man by the name of Mr. Andrews, if Derek remembered correctly, beside him. “Mr. Andrews, what are you doing? I see you everywhere writing in this little book.” All eyes turned to the man who sheepishly pushed the notebook over so that the boy could read it. “Increase number of screws in hat hooks from two to three. You build the biggest ship in the world and this preoccupies you?”

The man beside Lydia’s secret lover spoke up, an exasperated, yet almost fond sigh escaping him. “He knows everything there is to know about this ship. She may be mine on paper, but in the eyes of God, she belongs to Thomas Andrews.”

“Father,” The man beside him muttered, eyebrows furrowing together in obvious scorn.

“Hush Jackson, what I speak is true.” A collective rumble of agreement rose from the group, all except for Jackson and Lydia who remained silent.

Stiles handed the book back with a warm smile. “Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews. Truly.”

Soon after dinner had ended the men stood from their seats and placed chaste kisses to the cheeks of the women that had accompanied them. “Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?” Mr. Whittemore asked, his fingers already itching to reach into his coat pocket and grab out a cigar.

“I am afraid I cannot join gentlemen. I should accompany Mr. Hale back to steerage and then I would prefer to head in for the night. Today has been much too long and I am, sadly, quite tired.” Stiles rose from his seat and placed a reluctant kiss to Lydia’s cheek before gently clasping his father’s arm in a silent goodnight. “Ready Derek?”

“Absolutely,” He rose from his seat a little quicker than was probably deemed acceptable, but he could hardly find it in himself to care at that moment. The stuck up aristocratic atmosphere had started to become suffocating and he wanted to be alone with Stiles.

They moved at a slow and proper pace, once again brushing arms with every step they took. Derek carefully grabbed the boy’s hand when they stopped at the top of the stairwell next to a skillfully carved clock. “Want to go to a real party?”

* * *

 Steerage was nothing like the prim and proper atmosphere they had abandoned up above on D deck. The crowd was raucous and alive, moving to the stomping music in an uncoordinated dance that melded together marvelously. Laughter chimed in the air and the smell of stale beer crawled into Stiles’ nose to make a home there. People of all ages were dancing, drinking, smoking, laughing, and even a few brawls had broken out but no one seemed to take notice of them.

“Here you go, some stout for the gentleman.” Scott laughed, handing Stiles an overflowing pint that the young man raised in gratitude before taking a long drink. His eyes were glued to Derek as the man danced around with the same small girl from earlier. Her long, raven hair swirled around as he picked her up and spun just as the song ended.

“I’m going to dance with Stiles now,” Derek laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Is that okay, Marie?”

At the mention of his name, the brunette was on his feet, gravitating over to Derek as if he were the Earth and Stiles the moon. “I suppose…” Marie crossed her arms over her chest and pouted up at the pair of them, though she did step back in acquiescence.

“You’re still my number one girl!” Derek called to her as he gripped Stiles’ hand in his and the pair rushed to the center of the lively group.

“Derek! I can’t do this! I don’t know this song!” He yelled over the music, looking frantically at the men and women beside him who were moving as if the music was a part of them. 

“Neither do I! Just follow the music!” Cheers rose up from the crowd as the music picked up and Stiles closed his eyes to collect himself before he too began to join in. He was suddenly glad his mother had taught him how to tap dance because his feet were flying across the floorboards in an unmistakable display of a long forgotten skill.

He jumped when he felt arms wrap around his waist, raising him from the ground. However, he melted when his eyes found Derek. The two were incredibly close and the air was charged with electricity that had nothing to do with the excited atmosphere.

He laughed when his feet hit a table and the two jumped on top of it with little thought, dancing along to the music with a renewed vigor. From the corner of his eye he could see Scott whirling Kira around with a large smile on his face. Stiles snickered when the boy’s eyes grew wide and he found himself being spun around by the girl, the knowledge that she was stronger than him obviously a surprise.

The music ended in a mad rush of cheers and applause and Stiles could not remove the ear splitting grin from his face even if he had wanted to. No one cared that he was a first class man dancing in their midst or that his dancing partner was another man. They only cared about the fun and the alcohol. It was refreshing.

The pair moved through the crowd to join Scott and Kira at a table where the two were clapping along to the music and singing in opposite languages. It was quite endearing. “How’s it going?” Stiles was forced to raise his voice to be heard and he was glad that Scott heard him the first time so he was not forced to scream again.

“Great! I can hardly understand a word she says and she can hardly understand me! It’s perfect!” Peter, Derek’s Uncle, casually slipped into the group, handing his nephew and Stiles a pint each. Stiles threw back his head and chugged the alcohol, relishing in the burn it made at the back of his throat. Perhaps, he might be showing off a little bit.

Stiles glanced over at Derek and the others who were looking at him in varying states of awe. “What? You think a first class guy can’t drink?”

It took some time, but eventually the two men made their way to the boat decks, still giddy with the buzz of alcohol running through their veins and the music thrumming in their skin. The stars twinkled brightly up above them, winking as if they too were in on the secret that neither one of them wanted to admit. The first class entrance glared at them from where they stood, swaying together in front of it.

The sound of the orchestra cut through the otherwise quiet night, coming from the dining hall where they had spent an insufferable dinner together. “They are such small people, Derek… My crowd.” Stiles sighed at the words, dropping his arms onto the railings so that he could gaze upon the stars. “They think they are giants on this earth, but they are not even dust in God’s eye. They live inside this tiny little champagne bubble and one day it’s going to burst right in their face. Then I will be the one laughing.”

Derek carefully leaned over the rail next to him, just barely ghosting his fingers across the palm of his hand. The touch was so small, yet it was all he could focus on, like a shock running through his trembling body from the point where his finger touched his skin. “You’re not one of them. There’s been a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He echoed back.

Derek hummed somewhere deep in his throat and his fingers trailed farther up Stiles’ arm. “You were mailed to the wrong address.”

A shuddering laugh slipped past his lips and he shook his head fondly. “I was, wasn’t I?” He tore his gaze away to look at anything but the gorgeous man beside him and gasped. “Look! A shooting star!”

“That was a long one. My father used to say that whenever you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven”

“I like that,” He turned his head at the same moment Derek did, their noses brushed together with their proximity. It would only take a little push forward to connect their lips, and Stiles desperately wanted to do it. “Should we make a wish on it?”

“What would you wish for?” Derek’s hushed voice set his skin on fire, but it also reminded him of who he was, who they were, and he forced himself to pull back.

“Something I cannot have. Goodnight, Derek. And thank you,” Stiles gestured back where they had come from. “For a wonderful evening.” With that he was gone, rushing through the first class entrance back to the safety of his room. He ignored Derek calling after him and only stopped running when his door shut firmly behind him. Long fingers pressed under his shirt to feel his erratic heart trying to beat its way from his chest and he groaned. Stiles had never wanted to kiss anyone more than he wanted to kiss Derek Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it worth the wait?? Probably not haha. The next chapter will get into the more exciting (and sad. I mean, let's be honest, the Titanic sinking is devastating even all these years later) portion of the story. Thank you to everyone who came back to read this shit show of a late update and I hope you can forgive me for how long it took me. Welcome new readers, I appreciate you guys as well! Please leave comments and kudos!! Thank you!


End file.
